


new year, new kiss

by Bundlino



Series: that one time an angel slammed through my window: a series [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Lee Minho, Angel Realm, Angel Wings, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Demon Realm, Human Bang Chan, Human Han Jisung, Human Hwang Hyunjin, Human Realm, Human Seo Changbin, M/M, Magic, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Memory Related, Mentioned Han Jisung | Han, Mentioned Hwang Hyunjin, Mentioned Seo Changbin, New Year's Eve, New Years, Random & Short, Romance, Sad and Happy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Santa Claus is in there, Series, angst for no reason, but here we are, this wasnt supposed to be angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bundlino/pseuds/Bundlino
Summary: "Yes," he confirms, "plenty of times. Sometimes I just like to kick Santa's ass at boxing. After all the endless overwork he enforces onto his employees 365 days in a row. Capitalist asshole," he leans in closer to Chan in a whisper, like an incredible secret is about to be revealed, "I won this year, just to let you know.""You, you beat up Santa?"
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: that one time an angel slammed through my window: a series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083944
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	new year, new kiss

**Author's Note:**

> im back

Chan's in his pajamas, stripe-patterned and baby blue, it's ugly but it was a gift from the holidays last week. He can see the full moon in the sky from the second floor of his apartment's bedroom, leaning over the window sill in contemplation. 

Random thought, but now that he actually mulls it over, he's never kissed someone on New Years. It's a big occasion, kind of, yet he chose to stay indoors this time around. He was offered to go hang out at Jisung's place but turned it down, with the plan being a huge order of take-out food and inviting some friends over, like Changbin from the local guitar store and Hyunjin from that one famous web design company, as well as a bunch of other people Chan didn't know the names of.

It's for the better. Because honestly, parties kind of drain him, especially when he worked a long shift at his job earlier. And there's also that sort of empty feeling he gets when in a crowd. Like he's trying to blend in, but he feels detached somehow. He can't describe it very well. It gnaws at him.

Or maybe he's just lonely.

He yawns while taking out his phone from his pocket, tapping it to unlock and check the remaining minutes. There's only a couple of those left until the year is finally over. There's some crackling and popping in the distance, probably from a few streets away, with some of the children in the roads lighting fireworks and laughing while chasing each other with handheld sparkler sticks — the kind of firework that dazzles in the eyes and mesmerizes anyone to watch for hours. 

Oh, to be young.

Chan is 23. He's not old, but...

Anyway, once the new year arrives he'll ponder and sing his little list of New Year's Resolutions or goals in his head that he'll never actually do or accomplish. It's kind of an unofficial tradition for people to just lie to themselves. For the most part. But still, it's fun.

Once he sets his phone down on a nearby drawer, he notices a little bright twinkle in the corner of his vision. Chan turns back to look out the window, wondering where that came from. Excluding the landscape of apartment complexes in the neighborhood, he can perfectly see the night sky and its stars up above. They're definitely more noticeable today.

And there it is. The twinkle.

It flashes and fades out, only to light up again in a repeated cycle. A falling star. 

Beautiful just as much as it is sharp and radiant. With its cyan-colored meteor body and violet-hued astral tail. Surely that's a good sign. Chan must be so incredibly lucky to witness this right now in this very moment, and he wouldn't miss it for the world. 

He smiles as the gleaming beam of light streaks through the air itself, cleanly cutting through and leaving trails of shimmer and shine afloat behind in its path. He wants to make a wish before it usually breaks through the atmosphere and vanishes. If he can get the timing right, maybe it'll really come true. With his excited hands clasped together and feet swaying, he waits just a bit more. The falling star zooms at incredible speed, gradually approaching closer. And closer. 

And that's when his smile falters, as he realizes it surely should have reached the atmosphere by now. But it's coming straight at him at an inconceivable momentum. In all its burning and fiery glory. 

The core of his stomach twists in horror and his eyes widen, fight or flight response kicking in. Chan quickly lunges himself out of the way, shielding his head and eyes with his arms. The dangerous impact breaks through glass in that split second decision, and a boy about Chan's height comes through the frame, crashing onto the wooded floor in a tumble and multiple gruntings of pain. Shooting pieces of shard had ricocheted everywhere in the process, luckily out of harms way. 

Chan's on the floor, completely taken aback and frightened. He slowly peeks through his fingers that are covering his face, only to spot a human lying unconscious. His heart clenches at the sight, and he practically crawls over in a reflexive rush of adrenaline-filled distress, hard-floored thuds against his knees and palms the least of his worries.

He's cursing a blur of words and checking all vital organs. He thinks to call an ambulance as he pats over his empty pockets. 

"The phone— where's the phone," he scans and moves all over the ground like a panicked spider. His phone seemed to have gotten lost in the crash. "What do I do— what do I do ?"

He can't find that fucking phone! Only after another hell's moment of sweat dripping down his cheek is when he finally looks up at the drawer. The phone is right there where he left it, a miracle, but then he suddenly hears the faint sound pierce through the silence. 

"Maybe if you gave me mouth to mouth."

Chan tenses. Where did that come from. Surely that wasn't himself. And surely those weren't his thoughts, because right now he can't even think straight. He slowly turns on all fours to look at the body before him. Did he just fucking speak?

Did he imagine it? But the body is just lying there. Completely still, hands conveniently and gracefully intertwined on chest. 

With that, Chan blinks. "Don't worry, Chan," he tells himself as he gets up rapidly, almost tripping over on his legs. He also almost drops his phone in the moment, "Just call the ambulance. Just call the ambulance," he repeats as he's about to dial.

"Mouth to mouth," the whisper catches his attention again.

Chan stops. 

This has to be a nightmare. He's totally in a nightmare. He's _hearing_ things now! Forcing his fingers to tap on the screen, his mind can't seem to remember any number. Then the hushed words come again like a soft temptation. 

"What does a guy have to do to get kissed around here." 

Or... more like a mumbled complaint.

Okay, Chan isn't going to fall for that a fourth time. He narrows his brows at the body suspiciously, walking closer towards it steadily. Very steadily and _very_ carefully. Until he's towering above him. Now that he's checking once more, there doesn't seem to be any blood or cuts or bruises anywhere. 

The man on the floor has black hair and slightly parted, revealing a rather attractive forehead. Chan doesn't know how foreheads can be attractive. But yeah, that's an attractive forehead. 

That's when Chan notices the _allegedly_ injured man — eyelids still shut — started to pucker his lips. For no reason. Were his lips always in a pout like that?

He rubs his own eyes, as if he's imagining things again. "What is happening?"

The man on the floor groans in annoyance, finally brushing off the dust on his jeans and getting up from the floor to stare at Chan seriously. "Do you want to kiss me or not?"

Chan is completely caught off guard. The man is alive! "Kiss you?" he shakes his head confusingly. "I thought you were injured! How are you okay!"

"You have to stop living in the past, man." He shrugs in the comfort of his soft-looking sweater. And it's only now that Chan notices the sweater paws. "This is the present."

"The past? What. That was two seconds ago!" Chan is yelling, completely flustered and at odds with this stranger. A stranger that owes him a new window, actually.

"Same thing, I never understood humans and the concept of time anyway." The man kicks some glass on the floor. "Nice place you got here," he sweetly smiles. It sends a small wave of warmness through Chan's body. "I'm Minho, by the way."

"I'm..." Chan is now just staring at him, viewing very suspiciously. "Chan." He doesn't know why he's answering, nor does he know why he's suddenly calmer. Then he just slightly opens his mouth to ask a ridiculous question, "Are you even real? None of this real, right? I'm dreaming? I'm being pranked?"

Minho bursts out in a bubbly laugh, eye smile evident along with his bright grin. "Depends. If you know too much there might be consequences."

"Consequences," Chan repeats that to himself, as if he's desperately trying to focus, but it just goes in one ear and out the other as he tilts his head. "Is any of this real?"

"Cute," Minho quietly admits before changing the topic. "You can think of me as your guardian angel or something." Feathery white wings erupt from Minho's back, rather painlessly, and Chan's jaw drops. "Don't tell your neighbors. I know they like to gossip."

"You're," he's awestruck, "you're an angel. A real angel. In my apartment." Chan blinks. "My unclean apartment."

"It looks clean to me," Minho quirks a brow, surveying the perimeter. 

"No, it's not. I haven't cleaned in weeks and, and," he looks down, "and there's glass everywhere. Wow, there's glass everywhere," he's having trouble processing everything. "I am unworthy. I am unworthy to be in your presence."

"You're funny," Minho snaps his fingers, and the broken bits of window all magically swirl in the air around them, merging together in place back where they rightfully and originally belonged in the wall's frame. Like if nothing dangerous ever occurred recently. "I happen to highly value humans, believe it or not. You're all quite resilient. It's admirable."

Chan is taken aback by the comment, and his heart feels like its flying among the clouds. "Me?" Then he quickly shakes his head as if to rephrase. "What are you doing to me. You're messing with me, I know it."

"Messing with you?" he asks genuinely. 

"Are you using," he stops to think, "powers over me? Is that what you're doing?"

Minho hums as a first response. "I'll admit angels have the ability to calm humans down. I only did that once so far with you. But it's not in effect anymore."

"What about the other ability?"

"What other ability?"

"The one where you're making me crush on you."

"Oh," the angel's wings shyly flap. Very subtle-like. "You have a crush on me? I see." And he looks very happy to hear that.

"Yeah, and I don't like it. So stop."

Minho scratches his head. "I don't know how to tell you this, but angels don't possess the power to manipulate genuine emotions like that. There are rules and everything. And even if we did, it's not morally right."

"But you just said you could calm humans," he almost stutters.

"Well yeah, as a surface-level temporary thing. But it's not deep-rooted. Kind of like a placebo. I just direct you onto the right path, and from there your body adjusts on its own. The calm effect hardly does much." The angel nods along to his own truthful statements as they come out of him, as if he's trying to deflect from the obvious avoidance in eye contact that he's doing with the human. "I'm sure this is all very complicated when first hearing it."

"So what you're saying is," Chan pauses, letting his inner thoughts just flow out of him, "you're just naturally funny and adorable without even trying? How is that fair? Am I just supposed to pretend you don't exist now?" 

The angel almost chokes at the straightforwardness but quickly recovers by laughing nervously. "Okay, I get it. Stop flirting," he lightly hits Chan on the shoulder.

However, Chan grunts at the pain because that was surprisingly harder than it looked, now soothing the spot with his hand. "You're strong."

"Technically I'm considered one of the weakest angels," Minho points out unashamedly. "Some prefer weightlifting, others like to literally move mountains. I, on the other hand, enjoy a good flight around the North Pole."

"You've been to the North Pole?"

"Yes," he confirms, "plenty of times. Sometimes I just like to kick Santa's ass at boxing. After all the endless overwork he enforces onto his employees 365 days in a row. Capitalist asshole," he leans in closer to Chan in a whisper, like an incredible secret is about to be revealed, "I won this year, just to let you know."

"You, you beat up Santa?"

"Yeah, but he's in a lawsuit with the Heavenly Council recently," he shrugs. "They'll find some other punishment. The reindeer are also rumored to be accomplices in his corruption. It's whatever. I'm over it."

"Well that's one childhood ruined."

"Sorry, do you want me to lie and say Santa isn't real? Judging by the look you're giving me you seem upset— Okay, Santa isn't real."

"Thank you for the comforting lie," Chan fakes rubbing away a teardrop.

"Anytime," Minho happily nods, pleased with himself. 

An alarm goes off. In Chan's hand. It's his phone. Which can only mean it's already midnight!

Just as Chan turns off the ringing, Minho leans in and kisses him on the cheek. "Happy New Year. There's a whole world out there that you don't know about."

Chan is stunned and in a daze, automatically touching the area where Minho's lips met. "Wha— Why."

"No reason. Felt like it," his wings stretch outward as he walks passed Chan and closer to the window, ready for take off. "See you later."

"You're leaving? Just like that?"

Minho has a small smile on his face, but his back is turned to Chan. "I have a confession. This isn't the first time we've met."

"Hold on," Chan practically stops breathing. But then he remembered the angel is about to leave. He's only spent like ten minutes with the guy at most. Yet his heart aches. It all feels too real. And then he starts breathing again. "We've met before?" He glares for a second, the incoming realization slowly dawning on him. "No. No, no no." He's in denial. "Don't tell me this is some typical _I'm going to lose my memory the moment you leave_ kind of trope. You can't just do that. I have questions!"

"Maybe I'll answer them next time," he tries to force out without sounding sad. "There will be a next time."

"Please. Just." He tries to reach out but retracts his hand. "Don't go yet."

"Unfortunately, we've run out of time, Chan."

Time? Didn't Minho say something about that earlier? "I just. You can't expect me to handle this info all in one short sitting. You're telling the truth," his tone is so fragile yet eager to the know more, "aren't you? I can feel it. Are we..? Are we lovers?"

The angel in front of him doesn't respond. "See you next time."

"At least, at least fly safe. Promise me that."

Minho genuinely laughs, a small tear rolling down his cheek. "No promises on that one."

A window re-shatters as the magical being crashes through it once again, the broken pieces falling onto the shallow alleyway below. 

Chan's watery eyes. The way he finds himself reaching out right now, up at the floating angel above. And his hoarse voice. "Fly safe..."

He can feel his mind slowly altering. He has to think. He has to remember. Quickly, Chan unlocks his phone again and goes to a note app, only to stare at the other entries in disbelief. There's so many. 

_"remember"_

_"remember"_

_"remember"_

_"remember",_ dated April 9.

He scrolls to find an endless list. 

_"remember",_ dated June 26.

_"remember",_ dated September 20.

And more. And more. And more. Chan kneels on the floor in pain. He feels like everything is spinning. Minho has visited almost every day.

_"remember",_ dated October 31. 

_"remember",_ dated December 30. That was just the other day. Just the other day, and he couldn't remember a thing. Sluggishly, Chan works up the strength to open a new entry. Minho must be using an ability to wipe any memory of him from his head. But why. There must be a reason. Without him even noticing, the window is magically being repaired as the shards float back into their initial spots. And soon enough, the frame is fixed.

The clock on Chan's phone changes, signaling 12:01 in the morning. One minute passed.

...

..

.

He looks down at his phone, deeply confused. There's something on it dated today.

_"remember m",_ dated January 1.

"Remember m?" he sounds it aloud, enunciating the sentence slowly multiple times. Many, many times before eventually giving up to dote on the moon above. And the sound of firecrackers setting off in the corners of the neighborhood and blooming up in the sky resonate in his eardrums as the city life moves forward to celebrate the start of the new year. It's so colorful. He's smiling, because the pretty lights and stars make him happy. But he doesn't know why he's crying. "What was I supposed to remember again?"


End file.
